


The Rondo of Love and Death

by Sanalith



Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Regina informs Rumpelstiltskin of Belle’s demise, he travels to the underworld and confronts Death in order to learn of her fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rondo of Love and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm sure 99.9% of people reading this will be from the OUaT fandom, this is just a note to say that although the fic is technically a crossover, you don’t need to know much about the musical to follow it. In short, a young Bavarian princess named Elisabeth falls to her death while walking a tightrope, but when she appears in the underworld, Death immediately falls in love with her and cannot take her life. Instead, he returns her to her family, vowing to make her love him as he loves her. She later goes on to marry the Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph, but his mother, Sophie, makes her life a living hell. Death visits her throughout her life, attempting to convince her that she would be happier with him, even taking her youngest daughter from her during a visit to Hungary, and later encouraging her son, the Crown Prince Rudolph, to commit suicide. After an unhappy life spent mainly roaming across the world in her desire to be free, Elisabeth is assassinated by an Italian anarchist, Luigi Lucheni, and she gives into her love for Death. All these events (except for Death being personified, obviously), are based on fact and occurred in the 19th Century.

 

 

Although there have been many versions of the musical produced, this is my favorite Death (Ayaki Nao), so you can have this image in your mind while reading. 

 

 

 

Rumpelstiltskin often felt old.  
  
Such a thing was not unsurprising. A life of poverty had made him age well beyond his years even before he’d held the dagger of the Dark One, and while magic could remove the physical signs of aging, nothing could heal his mind or heart. Three centuries later, the pain of immortality weighed heavier and heavier, and when he added in the memories of all the previous wielders of the Dark One’s power…well. Such a time span was never meant to be measured by a mortal, and even on his best days, he could find it overwhelming. This was far from his best day.  
  
Despite all this, however, there was one creature who could make both Rumpelstiltskin, and the Dark One inside him, feel positively childlike…and the sensation never failed to make him ever so slightly uneasy.  
  
Rumpelstiltskin stood before that being now, cool dark eyes gazing upon him, radiating an  _ancientness_  that only one other creature in existence could possibly possess. A primordial power. The Omega to the Creator’s Alpha. The only constant in all the realms.   
  
With none of his usual mocking flourish, Rumpelstiltskin bowed his head to Death.  
  
“Greetings, Dark One.” A shadow of a smile touched his lips. “It’s been a very, very long time.”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin raised his head, trying and nearly failing to look Death in the eye. He was almost painful to behold, not for ugliness but for, ironically, beauty. Death was the consumant seducer, and there was no cause to doubt the reason. A long, pale face of porcelain white skin was framed by elegant cheekbones. Slanted obsidian eyes gazed out from under thick lashes. His eyebrows slashed across a high brow, and pale lips offered a silent promise of eternity with a mere touch. Death currently sprawled across his ash-colored throne, his waist-length mane of raven’s wing hair slashed with white cascading across his shoulders. He possessed an androgynous, almost elfin beauty that couldn’t be denied, but in this particular case, Rumpelstiltskin had another Beauty in mind.  
  
“You currently possess something that belongs to me.” The imp crossed his arms, attempting to conjure up at least a false show of bravado. “And you know how much I dislike sharing my things.”  
  
Death arched an eyebrow, his ever-present smile turning slightly mocking. “Some _thing_ , old friend?” The smile widened to show a row of perfect pearl teeth. “Or some _one_?”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin barred his own teeth with a growl. “Do not test me,” he warned. “Not now. Not this time. You know who I seek and I  _will_  find her!”  
  
Death tapped a long, sharp fingernail against his chin. “Her, is it? Don’t tell me the mighty Dark One has sucummed to…love?”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin barked out a short, sharp laugh. “You really want to have that conversation, dearie?” He took a step forward, licking his lips. “Because the last time I checked,  _you_ fell first.”  
  
Death’s smirk vanished, and Rumpelstiltskin pressed his advantage. “Some sort of little Bavarian horseback rider or circus performer, wasn’t she? Before she up and married someone else, of course. Someone handsome and powerful, someone who could give her everything she could ever possibly desire.”  
  
“You go too far, Dark One,” Death warned, rising from his seat, ancient eyes flashing. “Do you dare to insult an Empress?”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin placed a hand on his heart, eyes wide in mock-horror. “Me? Insult royalty? Really, dearie, wherever would you get such an idea?”  
  
“Elisabeth  _will_  be mine,” Death vowed, voice low with promise. “She merely requires time…and some subtle persuasion.”  
  
His voice rising to its customary pitch, Rumpelstiltskin flicked his wrist dismissively. “Just a hint, but seducing her son and heir into committing suicide doesn’t exactly fall into the _subtle_  category. But, you know, that’s just my opinion.”  
  
With a snarl, Death launched a volley of black fire from his fingertips, which Rumpelstiltskin barely avoided. One of his silk sleeves came away singed, reminding him that while he was technically immortal, Death did rather have a home court advantage.  
  
“Your tongue speaks quite freely for someone who came here to beg my favor.” The slight smile had returned. “Or had you forgotten that little tidbit?”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin drew himself up to his full height. (Which, even he had to admit, was not much, especially considering the massive shadow Death cast.) “The Dark One does not  _beg_ ,” he retorted sharply.  
  
“Oh.” Death lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned close, his lips lightly brushing Rumpelstiltskin’s ear. “But I think you will. I think you will indeed beg for this.” He leaned back slightly, and in that one moment, those ancient eyes were filled with every last ounce of his long years.   
  
“Would you beg for your Elisabeth?” Rumpelstiltskin whispered in return.  
  
There was the barest hint of hesitation.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Sighing, Rumpelstiltskin gave into the inevitable.  
  
“Belle. Her name is Belle.”  
  
Death smirked. “Beauty. How charming.”  
  
“No, thankfully he has nothing to do with this,” Rumplestiltskin replied, which drew one of the very few confused looks Death had ever worn, but the imp waved it away. “Her father called me to offer a deal. Ogres were ravaging their land. I agreed to stop them if his daughter consented to live with me for the rest of her life as my maid.”  
  
“And you made the colossal mistake of falling in love with her.” It was not a question. “Did she kiss you?”  
  
“I thought…” He shook head head, the memory still paining him more than he could ever admit, even to himself. “I thought it had to be a trick. A lie. Something.” He lowered his eyes. “Anything.”  
  
“True Love doesn’t lie.” Death arranged himself back on his throne, one leg thrown over an arm. “You of all people should know that.”  
  
“I couldn’t let her break the curse. I couldn’t. You know why.”  
  
Death sighed. “Parents and children. Humans have such a…complicated relationship with their offspring. I fear it is something I’ll never understand.”  
  
“Well it helps when you don’t steal them away continuously,” Rumpelstiltskin replied peevishly. “Didn’t you take one of your Elisabeth’s daughter’s early on as well? Really, you need to stop that or she’s going to become truly upset with you, you know.”  
  
“This is neither here nor there,” Death retorted, eyes flashing a warning. “We were speaking of  _your_  woman, not mine.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose we were.” Rumpelstiltskin hesitated, then continued, the memory of Regina’s visit still etched in his mind. “I exiled her from my home, and later learned that her father tortured her. She threw herself off a tower to escape her torment.”  
  
“Clearly a fate worse than Death.” He twirled a hand in a mockery of Rumpelstiltskin’s own flourishes. “And what exactly do you wish me to do about this?”  
  
“I thought I already made that clear.” Rumpelstiltskin placed a hand on either side of Death’s throne, leaning down so close he could feel his icy breath. “I want to see her. Now.”  
  
“And...ah…why should I grant this request?” Death brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. “I don’t see how there’s any benefit to me.”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin straightened, and with a flick of his wrist, produced a thin silver object. He tossed it to Death, who caught it reflexively. Looking down, he discovered a thin nail file, smaller than a knife but sharper than a dagger. It was slightly rusty and appeared almost homemade, something that looked like it belong in a junk pile.  
  
And yet…  
  
Death clenched the object in a fist, looking up at Rumpelstiltskin with greedy eyes.  
  
“Someday, you’ll see a man,” Rumpelstiltskin said quietly. “I don’t know his name, but insanity follows him like the stench of rotting fish. Give that to him. He’ll know what to do.”  
  
Caressing the weapon like a lover, Death whispered her name into the wind.  
  
“Elisabeth…”  
  
“You’ll have your Empress.” Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes flashed. “Do we have a deal?”  
  
“Oh yes,” Death assured him, slipping the file deeply into his robes. “And the moment your Beauty arrives in my realm and under my control, I will allow you to visit as often as you wish.” He smirked. “But for now, I’m afraid you’ll have to search aboveground for your lost love.”  
  
For a moment, Death’s words didn’t penetrate the Dark One’s haze. He simply stood there, blinking like a foolish child, his fists opening and closing reflexively.  
  
“What…do you mean?” he finally managed. “Belle…she’s not…you don’t…”  
  
“I’ve not yet shared her waltz,” Death assured him. “Her lips remain untouched by mine.”  
  
“But…that’s impossible!” Rage was beginning to overtake his stupor. “She  _died_. Regina  _told_  me she  _died_!”  
  
Death shrugged an unconcerned shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t know this Queen of whom you speak, but you know Death cannot lie.” He spread his arms. “She is not mine, Spinner. I give you my word.”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin’s mind was whirling. Belle was still alive. Regina had tricked him.   
  
“I searched for her,” he whispered. “With all the magic at my disposal, I searched for her. I found no trace.” His voice hardened. “And she is  _not_  more powerful than I. There is no way she could have hidden Belle from me.”  
  
“Strength is not the only measure of power,” Death warned. “Do not lie to yourself. A part of you  _wanted_  to believe she was dead. It was easier that way. It allowed you to mourn but also absolved you of responsibility toward her.” He laughed darkly. “And you had  _much_  to atone for, did you not?”  
  
“Yes. Yes I did.” Rumpelstiltskin bowed his head. He’d never wished Belle dead, not truly, but believing Regina was telling the truth certainly simplified his life. He had no time for True Love and all the problems that came with it.  
  
Except that he wanted it. Wanted her. So badly. Now, when he dreamed of reuniting with Bae, he always saw Belle at his side, welcoming them home, completing their family.  
  
Rumpelstiltskin was lost, and he knew it.  
  
“I will find her,” he vowed softly. “And Regina will pay for this.”  
  
“And you?” Death tilted his head. “What price will you pay for inflicting this upon your love?”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin laughed harshly. “The same price you’ll pay for sending a madman to kill your Empress.”  
  
“Ah yes.” Death’s eyes crinkled merrily. “The ultimate price indeed.”  
  
Love led to loss, to weakness, to suffering. It jeopardized their powers. It gave their enemies a convenient weapon to use against them. It could come to no good, especially when that love was centered on headstrong, independent, intelligent women who wouldn’t want to be protected, even if it was clearly for their own good.  
  
But it was as inescapable as Death itself.  
  
“Who would have guessed?” Rumpelstiltskin mused. “Death finally has something to live for.”  
  
“And the Dark One is now vulnerable to something other than his dagger.” He laughed lightly. “Perhaps the world truly is coming to an end.”  
  
“Somehow I doubt either of us would be that lucky,” Rumpelstiltskin replied dryly.  
  
Death shrugged. “Most likely true.” He waved a hand. “Now go. Your Beauty awaits.” His hand curved around the pocket concealing the nail file. “As does mine.”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin gave a low bow, then vanished in a puff of purple smoke, already planning on how best to locate his lost love.  
  
A few moments later, a man sauntered into Death’s chambers, a wide smile on his face. He wore a tattered black suit and a hat was perched at a jaunty angle on his head.  
  
His eyes were quite insane.  
  
“Did you get it, my lord?” he asked breathlessly, kneeling before the throne and holding out his hands in supplication.  
  
Death smiled, running his fingers through the man’s messy hair indulgently.  
  
“Of course, precious. Just as I predicted.”  
  
Mad eyes wide, the man watched greedily as Death retrieved the nail file. Its silver surface glinted, and he eyed it like it was a jewel. Death placed it gently in his hands, and leaned down to kiss it in benediction.  
  
“You know what to do, of course.”  
  
Grinning, Luigi Lucheni gripped the file close, running a finger across the edge of the blade.  
  
“I do, my lord. I do.”


End file.
